


Do You Remember (because I do, remember you)

by tukimecca



Category: World Trigger
Genre: M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tukimecca/pseuds/tukimecca
Summary: Miwa lets it go then, of his armor called ‘anger’ and lays his heart bare. Jin picks it up then, Miwa’s heart that barely holds together, gently like it’d crush with the most faint of touch. He strokes Miwa’s cheeks, painting scarlet on white, “I’m sorry.”





	Do You Remember (because I do, remember you)

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my Google Drive. I don't think I'll continue it so at least I'll let it see the light.
> 
> Not beta-ed

Miwa remembers not believing him, by choice.

When he told Miwa everything would be okay, wrapping Miwa under his still too-thin arms, Miwa could hear how unconvinced he was with his own words. Years later and Miwa still doesn’t understand how could people fail to notice it, because for him, it’s as obvious as black stain on white-blank paper. Obvious painfully so that sometimes Miwa wants to turn avert his eyes away.

At how bad he is at lying. At how foolish people are.

Jin should thank his side-effect, because Miwa is sure without his side-effect, he wouldn’t be able to get his way the way he does now. Whenever he talked about this, Yoneya would look at him funny, and sad, and regretful - because after all these years, Miwa is still - “You’re just biased, too biased. Jin-san is great with his words.”

Miwa  snorts, downs his canned-coffee, and says nothing but his head screams;  _ stupid, stupid, stupid _ .

He remembers not believing Jin, by choice.

And when he believes him, it’s by choice too. When Jin is looking at him with his brows pinched together but smile less saccharine than usual, eyes bright, but not in the way sun rises; bright in the way spot-light fall on you when you least wanted it. Miwa’s stomach floors, Jin has never been earnest, but only in time like this when his next string of words are bound to  _ hurt _ , he wears his heart on his sleeves (not fair, not fair,  _ not fair _ ).

So, Miwa swallows, and chooses to believe him.

“I’d die,” Jin says, short like the breathe Miwa takes. Simple like he’s talking about the weather.

“What?”

Jin looks at him like Miwa is the most merciful things ever walk the earth, smile so sincere it makes Miwa’s heart clench, and his eyes speak of things his mouth cannot. Miwa swallows the rising bile. Miwa swallows the ‘no’ that’s about to overspill. “I said, I’d die Shuuji.”

_ How? Why?  _ But the one that he manages to win the race is, “ _ how _ dare you?” and the one violently, desperately reverberating through the wall of his damaged heart is;  _ no, no, no _ .

“Human dies anytime,” is said so off-handedly Miwa feels like punching him on his perfect teeth.

And punches him he would, if he doesn’t have better self-restraint. He practically practiced it for years already. Keeping his fingers curled against his palm to keep them from strangling Jin’s sun-kissed neck. “You know that’s not what I’m asking,” he says instead, tightening his knuckles beside him. He draws the purple crescent forming on his pale skin in his head.

Jin smiles, and Miwa remembers again, “that is not my place to tell, sadly.”

He had loved this man. Once. Miwa no longer remember why he did.

:::

Miwa remembers the pain, the helplessness that comes. The tears that streamed down his face as if racing against the cold, heartless downpour.

He remembers his sister, ice-cold, rock-freeze. He remembers remembering her smile, sunshine-gold, and mother-kind. The gentle kiss she planted on his head when he could not sleep. The tender stroke of her fingers on his night-black hair.

He remembers Jin, remembers the remorse in his eyes. Remembers his own despair. Remembers.

Remembers.

He remembers taking those offered hands and clinging, and wishing he doesn’t have to let go for the second time.

Remembers thinking that this person, he’s not losing.

:::

 

Jin dies anyways, not in the way he imagined in, but death is death and regardless of how it claims you, it’s the same outcome. Goodbye, to everything you’ve done and things you haven’t because when it comes to death, there is no second chance. It’s the most absolute thing after time, the only thing that stays unchanged.

He is bleeding so much that he is lying on his own pool of blood, there’s some trickling down from his lips, and some caked around the gash above his eyes. Beneath the blackening liquid, his eyes are stark blue, clear startling, and shines bright - so bright like he is gonna live another day, Miwa almost can’t believe he is dying.

“Hey,” Jin manages to croak out, and immediately, Miwa wishes he didn’t. He starts coughing out another blood which reminds Miwa that Jin  _ really is _ dying.

His knee drops beside Jin, hands on his (trembling) shoulders, pressing him down to the ground, and with gritted teeth, he says, “don’t move, idiot. Don’t talk.”

“I’m dying,” Jin  _ fucking _ grins, liquid blue eyes still shining like northern star and Miwa prays to the said star to grant his wish -  _ don’t let this man die. _

“Right, you fucking idiot. Now, if you’d stop moving so we could-”

Jin smiles, sun-brilliant despite him practically standing in the abyss gate of death. “You can’t save me, Shuuji. I’ve seen it.”

Miwa’s whole body freezes like his heart got into cardiac arrest. There are so many things he wants to do - like saving this man - but it’s as if all his energy is  _ wasted _ on keeping the tears to spill. His throat feels slick, there’s disgustingly wet and huge lump stuck inside. He can barely speak and he is slowly losing someone who once, no matter how he tried to deny it, important to him. “Shut up,” he croaks out.

“But you can’t,” Jin says, voice so weak like flower wilting once autumn comes. Withering like leaves once curtain of September falls. He raises his fingers, crimson drenched in blood, shivering like dry leaves in the wind, but sure in its trajectory.

It lands on Miwa’s cheeks, smearing red on his porcelain skin. He is cold. And Miwa freezes to the bone with it. Their eyes meet; lively blue meets dying amber. They wishes earnestly for Jin not to speak, because, “you are dying.”

Miwa lets it go then, of his armor called ‘anger’ and lays his heart bare. Jin picks it up then, Miwa’s heart that barely holds together, gently like it’d crush with the most faint of touch. He strokes Miwa’s cheeks, painting scarlet on white, “I’m sorry.”

“If I said I won’t forgive you unless you live, would you?”

:::

Miwa remembers, of smile that tears his heart apart. Of hatred as strong as love. Of arms gentle yet cold.

Of name, so dear yet so far away.

Of someone, whose face he cannot shape under the warmth of morning sun, but can sketch in the dark of his room once the moon peeks from behind the cloud so dark.

Miwa remembers. But not a name.

Never a name.

:::

Except he does remember, not in the life when he swings his blade and pulls the trigger for living, but when the world he had always dreamt of is the world he is living in.

Miwa Shuuji was five when he started remembering  _ things; _ bits and pieces of days he’s not supposed to experience yet. He thought it was only his childish daydream but it all felt so real, he could tell it really happened; he could tell he really experienced it. He was 10 when he remembered  _ everything _ ; from losing his sister to neighbor, from Neighbor to trion, from trion to trigger, from trigger to Border, from Border to the agents, from the agents to his squad,

from his squad to Jin Yuuchi.

He realized those are the memories of his  _ past life _ . He never told this to everyone, not even his dear, dear sister. Because he thinks nobody can understand, because he thinks he will eventually let go of them someday and treats it as nothing more than memories, like some days of your childhood that you forget because there are much more things to remember as you grow and they’ll be replaced with the new memories. But now he’s 17 and he still has not forget, those days as ‘Miwa Shuuji’ are still fresh in his mind, even more clear than the childhood days of his present life.

He could have the normal life in this present life, he could have his chance of happiness if not for the fact that he’s not ready to let go of those memories.

He always tell himself that he’s just not ready, one day he will let go, just not today. But it’s been 7 years and here he is; still standing behind the line, not quiet ready to cross forward.

Deep down, Miwa realizes that he will never let go.

He will never let go of those days long gone, those days of fighting, living in threat of invasion; those days of living for the sake of exterminating neighbor; those days of drowning of pain in losing his sister; those days of loathing himself for not being strong enough; those last months in his previous life of fighting  _ alongside _ Jin Yuuichi.

Probably hundreds of years later, Miwa’s heart still ache at the simple thought of him.

Maybe that’s the reason why he couldn’t let go; maybe because in this life, even if he had regained his sister whom he had lost, he still lost another important person that he lost in his previous life.

Miwa still remember the solid weight of Jin’s black trigger in his palm, it’s warmth still lingers. He can still feel it even know, he remembers how it used to make him feel at ease, as long as the black trigger was there, he was safe,  _ protected _ , and he could protect everything else around him. It was his solace but at the same time, his misery; but it always reminded him of whom he had lost, it always reminded him that Jin would never return, that he would never hear those voice calling his name, he would never see himself reflected in those pair of bottomless pool of blue.

That he could, and would never be able to tell him of things he could have told.

It tortured him back then and it still tortures him right now as he stands in a sea of people. The red number displayed at the upper corner of large digital billboard across the street reads 37.6 degree Celcius. The heat doesn’t stop people from going outside, it doesn’t stop Miwa either. Miwa glances around him; even in this ocean of people,  _ he  _ is nowhere to be found.

The light turns blue and the crowd starts moving, Miwa lets it carry him across the street. Sweat trickle down from his temple, his whole body feels sticky, he has to squint from the bright and unforgiving sunlight.

It’s when he almost make it across the street when he  _ sees _ it, when he  _ hears _ it; a flash of blue and brown, a distant yet all too familiar voice.

It all happened to fast, Miwa stops moving completely until a man behind him reprimand him from blocking the way. By the time everything dawned on him, Miwa quickly turns on his heels, his feet carrying him back to where he come from. His senses are sharper than usual; eyes searching and looking for  _ him _ , ears straining to capture  _ his  _ voice;

_ Jin _ .

Miwa pushes his way through, he’s still nowhere in sight but Miwa can  _ feel _ him, he’s there; near yet far away, just like before. Jin was there, fighting along side him but not at the same time. Because Jin Yuuichi was no more, because Jin Yuuichi was nothing more than a black trigger; there but not there at the same time.

_ Jin _ ,

the name is at the tip of his tongue but he’s not going to say it, not yet. Because Miwa is tired; Miwa is done with calling for someone whom he knew was not going to answer him, done with speaking to an inmate object. He used to do that alone in the darkness of his room at night, in the light of day during his missions;

_ Jin _ ,

he’d say as his fingers curled around the black trigger.

He is done with that in his previous life and if in this current life he’s ever gonna call that name then this time, he swears he will get an answer.

So, when  _ he _ is finally in sight, Miwa calls,

“Jin,”

a person pushed him back,

“Jin,”

a woman with all too excited kids accidentally bumped into him. She apologized immediately but Miwa’s eyes are ahead,

“Jin,”

_ he _ suddenly picks up his pace,

“Jin,”

Miwa walks faster.

His eyes are hot, his throat is closing up, the heat is killing him but it’s nothing compared to the ache in his heart; it’s nothing compared to the fear of losing  _ him  _ again. Not this time when he finally find him, not this time when he might have been allowed a chance of happiness;

not this time when he could finally tell him everything he could have tell him in days long gone; that Miwa treasure him, that Miwa is lost without him, that Miwa seeks for him, that Miwa longs for him.

That Miwa  _ feels _ for him, as much as he had told Miwa he did.

“Jin!”

So Miwa reaches out, and when he finally reaches him, when his fingers curl around those familiar, nostalgic fingers, his breathe is caught in his throat.

Miwa watches with baited breathe as the brunette turns around, revealing himself reflected in a pair of those bottomless pool of blue.

“Jin,”

He calls, fingers curling a little tighter around all too familiar warmth.

The man looks at him in wonder, like a child seeing constellation for the first time. Miwa’s breath hitches when he feels the fingers in his grasp curl back around his own.

“Jin?”

The man in front of him smiles, a pair of blue eyes narrows, causing crinkles in the corner of his eyes. His gaze is too gentle and Miwa feels the hold on his fingers tightens.

When the man finally opens his mouth to speaks, Miwa swears that this time he’s not going to let go.

This time he’s going to embrace his happiness, as tight as he embrace the man before him.

“I finally found you, Shuuji.”


End file.
